


Nose and/or pride injury

by hc_for_me



Category: Transplant (TV 2020), Transplant - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23776921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hc_for_me/pseuds/hc_for_me
Summary: teeny tiny AU fic to "Birth and Rebirth" in which Bashir is the one to treat Theo's nose. Be kind, my first ever published fic. Pretty sure I suck XD
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	Nose and/or pride injury

Theo didn't mind his friend treating him. Really, he didn't. Dr. Hamed was an excellent resident- if you could call him that given how overqualified he was. And he had a smooth bedside manner, which did not come as standard on ex trauma surgeons.

Theo placed his hesitancy on the fact that he hadn't expected to get acquainted with said bedside manner today. Thankfully, his colleague spared him the "hop up on the bed" instruction as they got to the exam room. He knew the drill. He held the dressing under his nose, sat on the edge of the bed, didn't touch his face and took the acetaminophen handed to him like a good patient.

He looked down when Bashir paused in front of him. The vulnerable feeling of being under scrutiny and having no power was.. what was that feeling? Objectification, of sorts? He wasn't entirely Theo, he was also a suspected nasal fracture. Moreover, he was a doormat milksop pushover who got punched and all he'd done was stupidly cup his face.

"Doesn't look displaced," his friend quietly reassured before stepping away to grab further supplies, leaving Theo alone with his stinging nose and his stinging thoughts. The middle of his face was hot and pulsing. His arm protested at holding the dressing for this long. He quelled the wave of hurt emotion that threatened to take form within him, replacing it with anger. Mainly at himself, if he was honest. Not a helpful spiral. He was only a few steps away from his chin quivering. Stop it, damn it.

A touch to his knee brought him back. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said quickly, forcing himself to sound casual.

Just _casual_ facial trauma, as you do- nothing to write home about. Well.. actually.. this would give Mel one more argument. He sighed, pinning the thought aside. Bashir gestured for him to lower the now mostly red dressing. Theo wasn't quite sure where to point his eyes when the other doctor leaned in to have a closer look. Was it rude to stare directly at someones face? Was it laughably coy to look away?

"Bleeding's stopped," Bashir noted, his tone entirely too perky from where Theo was sitting.

Theo resisted the ridiculous impulse to shut his eyes when his physician's gloved hands reached to his face. Again, he was a good patient and sat perfectly still. To slow his mind, he mentally tracked which maxiofacial structures and nerves were being examined. Supraorbital and infraorbital nerves. Orbits, along the zyphoid bone, zygomatic arch– "Ah.." he inhaled involuntarily, his hands twisting in his lap. Yep, nasal bone. It felt like someone shot a needle into his face, making his eyes water. What a lightweight he was being.

"Sorry," Bashir stopped his exam. It was not the typical blurted-out 'sorry' physicians tended to get into the habit of. It was almost _somehow_ worse to see real concern in the other's eyes.

"Symmetric sensation?"

"Yep."

"Numbness? Vision changes?"

Theo shook his head to both.

"Headache?"

Another head shake. Theo wanted to protest that he hadn't hit his head, but that sounded awfully petulant even in his own mind. There was a correlation between TBI, spinal injury and blunt force trauma to the face, which technically this was. He would be doing the same in Bashir's shoes, so he accepted the light that was shone into his eyes, followed the finger held up in front of him and resigned to the head and neck exam. Would Bashir even be in his shoes had the situation been reversed, he couldn't help but ponder bitterly– or would the other guy be here right now?

"No pain?"

"No... some muscle soreness maybe..." _that, my pride took a hit..._

»Should've helped me when you had the chance.« Had he seen that patient before, perhaps sent him home? He couldn't recall, but then, it was possible, he didn't have Mag's perfect recall. He palmed the back of his neck. He'd literally been spun around like a cartoon character. And while he was still in slow-motion land on his hands and knees, Bashir had rushed past him.

What did it say about him that someone literally punched him and his reaction was to glitch as if his brain was stuck on a blue screen with 'does-not-compute' written on it? He replayed the moment, and then replayed it in assorted variations of what he should have done instead.

He became aware that Bashir was hovering, as if waiting for something. Theo blinked back to reality. His colleague was holding a scope which was destined for his nose. Ah, of course. Mercifully, there was no comment about his spacing out. If Bashir had noticed, he was tactfully not mentioning it.

'Position the patient in a comfortable reclining position' was what the textbook called for next. Presently, he swung his legs up and internally scoffed at the word comfortable. None of this was _comfortable_. He picked a spot on the ceiling to stare at this time, grateful that Bashir seemed to know when he was ready. It wasn't so much painful, just awkward. The scope made his nose glow orange, he could see it in the corner of his vision.

He sat up the moment it was done, hanging his feet off the bed. He felt immeasurably more in control when sitting up. If anyone had made him wear a gown, he might have come undone entirely. He swallowed a gob of half congealed blood and looked to Bashir.

"Looks good, no hematoma or septal deviation, a little edema- probably a non-displaced fracture, but I don't think you need imaging," his friend summarised. Theo nodded absently... It's what he'd expected. His colleague tore a sterile gauze pad package open. Theo's eyes tracked to the pack of steri strips next to it. He opened his mouth, but Bashir beat him to his question.

The doctor pointed at his own nose, the top near the bridge, "you have a small lac right here," he clarified. "About two centimetres, shouldn't scar," he smiled warmly, starting to clean the wound.

Why did these stupid rooms not have mirrors? Theo clenched his jaw and tilted his head upwards to facilitate his coworker's task. He was ready for this to be over. Instead he quietly observed the concentrated dedication with which the other man deftly manoeuvred the gauze sponge, somehow without activating the needle pain from earlier. This guy would make a good paediatrician. Theo found his mind wandering back to the what-if theatre playing on repeat. The first punch.. okay, he couldn't have seen that coming. But the second. He imagined punching back. What a foreign concept. Or running, or ducking, or calling for security...

"How's that feel?" Bashir interrupted, having stuck the last steri strip.

Theo took a mental inventory of his face. The acetaminophen was dulling the throbbing some. "Good. Thank you."  
  
Yes, he _was_ thankful. _I am grateful_ , he repeated to himself. It could have been worse. He was surrounded by a work family he'd trust with his life- and definitely with his nose. But maybe not his pride, apparently?

"Hey, uh," he started awkwardly, catching his friends eye, "thanks for coming to my rescue."

Bashir didn't even acknowledge doing anything out of the ordinary. "Did you recognise the guy?"

"No.." he answered, pressing his lips together in resignation. "The way you jumped in, it uh-" he paused, glancing between his lap and his friend's face, "-guessing you've had to do that kind of thing before?"

 _What was he doing?_ He'd resolved to not probe Bashir on his past. But something within him needed to know. Just that one detail.

The other doctor shrugged minutely in acknowledgement. "Doesn't mean you get used to it," he added.

Kinda did seem like you _at least_ got better at it though.  
  
"Well I've never been in a fight," Theo admitted.

"I wouldn't exactly call that a fight, a stranger came out of nowhere and punched you in the face, that's-"

"Twice."

And there it was. He felt numb, detached. Bashir made a helpless expression, like he couldn't come up with an excuse for that either. Of course he couldn't.

"..and I didn't do anything to try and stop him I just.. froze.." Theo looked down. Ugh, the disgrace. He took a steadying breath. Why was he even confiding this? Some part of him wanted his friend to come up with some justification.. but that's exactly what it would be– an excuse.

"Theo," Bashir said, a touch of admonishment in his tone. "You were assaulted. Trust me on this–" he paused, looking somewhere into the middle distance, his lips pursed. "The things that would prepare you for situations like that... are not things I'd wish upon anyone."

 _Oh._ Damn it, why did this guy have to be so wise? Here Theo was trying to be tough and badass, but those things have a price. Unless you merely pretend to be tough, which is more like what he was trying to do right now. Of course Bashir could see right through that. The man probably would trade with him in a second.

"Yeah.." Theo mumbled, not sure how else to respond. "Well, except maybe self defence classes," he remarked, a smile tugging at his lips.

Thankfully, his friend didn't seem to take offense. The younger man chuckled, "good point, but how about we get some coffee first?"


End file.
